


Hot for Teacher

by afterandalasia



Category: Atlantis: The Lost Empire (2001)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Community: disney_kink, Dorkiness, F/M, Flirting, Tutoring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-21
Updated: 2012-08-21
Packaged: 2018-05-31 11:17:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6468103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterandalasia/pseuds/afterandalasia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kida needs a tutor to get her through her history class - or perhaps just to make up for the fact that her teacher has managed to make the fascinating subject of history into an insufferingly boring morass. She does not expect the tutor that she gets to be so cute - or so distracting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot for Teacher

**Author's Note:**

> From the great [anon prompt](http://disney-kink.livejournal.com/4400.html?thread=4268848#t4268848) at Disney Kink.

It isn't as if she doesn't find history interesting. There's so _much_ to discover, so many fascinating times and places, warriors and inventions and great empires. It's just that when history is pinned into textbooks and written up on chalkboards, it becomes terminally dull, and even bringing herself to attend the lesson is a chore.  
  
 _Failing_ history, though, is unthinkable. Which is how Kida found herself waiting in a group study room in a quiet corner of the library, even though the weather was so hot that her shirt was sticking to her and the humming air conditioning and ticking clock might as well be a lullaby.  
  
Mr Thatch. It sounded middle-aged, stodgy, like the sort of man who wore a tweed jacket with leather patches on the elbows. Kida began to doodle the appropriate figure in the margin of her paper, paying particular attention to his moustache. She had been sure to be here on time, even, and now her tutor was running late. Maybe he was a little tubby, and had problems climbing the stairs. Her pencil added a couple of dozen pounds to the drawing.  
  
The door opened, and the figure stumbling through apologised for doing so. Kida looked up from beneath her white-blonde bangs to the skinny man in the doorway, who seemed to be losing the papers from his arms as well as the glasses off his nose. A snap of: "Donnerwetter!" left his lips as the papers escaped to the floor, although his glasses managed to stay in place.  
  
Kida swung her legs out from under the table and helped him shoving all of his papers back into a pile, both of them kneeling on the floor. As they finished, she sat back onto her heels and stretched her arms above her head.  
  
"Sorry, this room is taken. I'm waiting for my tutor."  
  
"Oh, yes, of course." The young man turned to face her, and extended his hand. "I'm Milo Thatch. You must be Kidakada."  
  
"Kidakagash."  
  
"Kidakiga."  
  
"Kida," she finally went for, and he gave her a sheepish grin which, all things considered, may or may not have had something to do with the fact that she was pushing her breasts in the air. She hadn't thought he was going to be staying in the room when she had stretched first. She took his hand, knowing that her grip would be firm in his. "I wasn't expecting someone so... young."  
  
He was wearing a tweed jacket, although it at least did not have leather patches on the shoulders. The bowtie was a cute addition, she had to admit. Milo looked surprised at the shake of hands, and then even more surprised as she got to her feet and pulled him up by his upper arm.  
  
Her father had found someone from the museum to tutor her, he said, rather than trusting any of the seniors or one of the college students that advertised in flyers on the walls of the school. She hadn't expected him to look... like this. Milo looked to be in his twenties himself, thin as a rake with thick round glasses, and oddly... cute.  
  
"I get that," Milo said, with a sheepish smile. "Well, er... maybe we should... get started?"

She flashed him a smile and joined him at the desk, scooting her chair closer to his and discreetly turning the page so that her earlier drawing was hidden. Milo removed his jacket, placing it carefully on the back of his chair, and flicked through his notes before producing a sparse handwritten list.  
  
"So, this is a list of topics which you should have covered by this point in the year."  
  
The formation of the state. Industrial development. Emergence as a political power. The Civil war just about scraped over the line as interesting, World War One lagging behind it a little more. Just about everything in-between was mundane at best, dull at worst.  
  
Nevertheless, she put forward a sort of desultory effort to show interest. What was sweet, though, was watching Milo talk: his eyes lit up and he waved his hands around as he talked about the industrialisation of the American cities in the second half of the nineteenth century. Kida tucked one foot up beneath her and rested her chin on her hand, watching Milo with amused fascination.  
  
Nobody ever dared to talk this enthusiastically around her when she was in school. The other students were scared of her, with her motorbike and her exotic accent and the confidence that dripped from every move that she made. Kida would have been lying if she said that she did not enjoy it, hearing the stories about herself. Knowing that people had found out that she spoke five languages, that she had moved all over the world with her father before he retired from politics, just made her laugh. It was not as if anyone would dare talk against her; they were all too in awe to try to bully her.  
  
(And then, of course, there were the rumours that were wrong, that made her laugh harder. Like the one that she had killed a man. Or that she was a lost princess from some obscure little country.)  
  
Milo hadn't heard the stories about her, and she was more than content to watch him enthuse about his subject. He made it seem interesting; at least, she could see that it interested him, and that was close enough. His hands fluttered, mouth curved into a smile as he described the role of immigration in changing the workforce, and she let her dangling foot drift against the back of his calf. For a moment he glanced down, but Kida did not react, and after a stumbling mouthful he kept talking.  
  
"You see, the influx of people is still being felt today, with..."  
  
He kept going, although the rising colour in his cheeks was probably more to do with the gaze fixed on him than the heat of the room. Kida shifted in her chair and leant closer, close enough to see the little marks on his nose beneath his glasses and to smell the clean-laundry and warm-books smell of him. It was like a library, warm and comforting. A slight movement left her nose brushing his hair, and he pulled away a stutter, then cleared his throat and pushed on into the 1890s.  
  
Truth be told, she rather suspected that she would find a study of the tutor more interesting than the study of the subject. And she had long been of the opinion that history was interesting.

It took hardly any effort to murmur along with him as he traced the increasing population and the demographic patterns, letting her breath drift across his skin. As time passed, the room hot and still, a drowsy fly butting the window, Milo reached up to adjust his bowtie, and she reached across to loosen it further for him. He turned red all the way up to his ears and his glasses tilted alarmingly. She giggled, then caught herself before it became too alarmingly girlish and had to draw away for at least a moment.  
  
Sadly, her hour and a half did not last long at all, and though by the end of it she had draped one arm over the back of Milo's chair and curled her thigh against his, the clock ticked on and their time wound to an end.  
  
Despite the occasional stutter, Milo had timed his lesson well, and drew to an end only a couple of minutes past the time that they were supposed to leave. Reluctantly, she uncurled from his chair, and he turned to give her a nervous, pink-cheeked smile.  
  
"So, ah," he remembered his bowtie, now completely undone, and reached to do it up again. Kida fought not to watch his fingers. "How do you think today went? Would you be happy to come back next week and keep going?"  
  
Having utterly failed to make any notes after about the first ten minutes, Kida scooped up her paper and pencils as she stood. A textbook lay open on the table, a few pages of Milo's notes scattered about, an empty water bottle having given up the fight and fallen over.   
  
"I think it went quite well," she said lightly, walking round the back of his chair to the outside of the table. Her hand brushed against his shoulders, then as she reached his side she bent down. Her lips brushed against his ear, curved in a smile, her breasts by his shoulder. "And I would love to come back next week."  
  
She planted a light kiss on his cheekbone, and felt his skin grow hot as much as she saw him blush all over again. Definitely cute.  
  
"Um, yes, well..."  
  
One finger tucked beneath his chin and turned his face to the side so that their eyes could meet. This time, Kida pressed her kiss to his lips, and heard him draw in his breath sharply as the tip of her tongue just touched on his skin. She could see the ghost of her reflection in his glasses as she drew back again and cocked her head to one side.  
  
"See you next week, then," she murmured.  
  
One of his lenses was steaming up, and she smirked as she turned to leave, swinging her hips with each step to the door. As she opened it and stepped through, she heard a crash of papers behind her, and suppressed more laughter at the German curse that slipped through the door after her.  
  
"What an era," she said to herself, and laughed aloud as she headed down the corridor and away.


End file.
